She's Losing It
by Puck the Faerie
Summary: But in the first moment of waking up, she knows she's losing it. So what can Nakuru do?
1. wonderland

i. wonderland

***

_the world is spinning in my head  
I'm alice in the wonderland_

She had told Eriol she would be out, and with that she had stepped out of the house, coat wrapped around her. The chilly English air bit her cheeks, turning them red. On nights like this, she always wished for what she couldn't have, and so the local club provided a safe haven for her to prowl in her pursuit of...

Of what? Of what?

There where neon lights flashing around when she got there, and the crude brick box the club was housed in thumped. Dreamy techno beats drifted lazily out in the parking lot, streaming around the bored teenagers.

Nakuru never bothered making friends here, because she knew the people here didn't really matter. What _did_ matter was the music, and the dancing, and the whole _escape_. Nakuru loved that part the best. She always felt as if she was slipping away, and the feeling was both and exciting and frightening one. 

Hurriedly, she briskly walked past the stoners and asses that hung around the outside of the club. She gingerly stepped over a passed-out boy, alcohol-induced vomit dried and clinging to his plaid shirt. _That_ was the reason Eriol was wary about her visits here.

Some sequinned girl was making out with a boy, but Nakuru knew she would never do anything like that. Sure, she was hyperactive, but she wasn't stupid; she knew her limits.

And so, without a care in the world, she began to dance.

The music swelled inside of her, her heart jumping like a dolphin, one fish, two fish...The red fish and the blue fish where missing. They always where.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she could see a familiar shape.

It couldn't be.

Swinging her head to the side, Nakuru stopped dancing. She was too busy staring. There, right in front of her, fresh-eyed and dew-skinned, dancing like there was no tomorrow, where Tomoyo and Sakura.

Or, at least, they looked like the two. Nakuru rubbed her eyes. It couldn't be, she told herself, it couldn't be, for Tomoyo and Sakura where in Japan, Tomoeda to be exact, and would be at this moment be doing something like studying for the high school entrance exams. They would not, Nakuru firmly told herself, be halfway across the world, dancing to catchy techno beats in a run-down club in the middle of nowhere in England. Most certainly not.

And yet, shining as bright as the sun, clear as day...there they where. Right in front of her. She didn't know the meaning of this, so she stood blankly for a few minutes, merely staring at the oblivious look a-likes.

But...where they really there? There was an airy, misty aura around them; ragged around the edges; and it was like peering through dark sunglasses to be able to glimpse them. They seemed to flicker, almost...

It couldn't be them.

***

_lights are flashing everywhere..._

_making the moves without a care..._

_the world is spinning in my head  
I'm alice in the wonderland___

***

Hope you enjoyed that, so far! Reviews much appreciated!


	2. through with you

ii. through with you

***

_can you see me  
floating above your head  
as you lay in bed  
thinking about everything  
that you did not do  
cause saying I love you  
has nothing to do with meaning it_

She sat at her boudoir brushing her hair when Kaho came in. The room was airy, and the color of cream, with a mess of pictures pinned to her western wall. Her bed was squat in the middle, the head pushed up against a wall.

Kaho crept in, then, disturbing the peace; but that was alright, because Nakuru was rather fond of Kaho and meant no ill to the young priestess. The woman in question walked up behind Nakuru, startling her slightly; she dropped her hairbrush to the floor. It was pretty piece of wood painted pale lavender, and Kaho picked it up, and began to brush Nakuru's hair.

"Hello," Kaho said, smiling. Nakuru knew that England was hard for her, and she felt a little sorry for her on the days when she was wane and pale, longing for her island homeland. The rest of the time, Nakuru forgot about Kaho.

There were times when, secretly, she and Suppi would sit and whisper complaints about her to each other. They missed all the attention their master used to give them, and they sometimes regretted that Eriol and Kaho had ever met.

But then, Suppi would point out, if they hadn't met, then Sakura never would have been able to defeat Yue in the Final Judgement, and Eriol wouldn't have had to go help Sakura change the cards in Sakura Cards, and then maybe the two of them would never have been created. It was fate.

Fate, Nakuru would repeat, nodding. Fate. Then she would go to the kitchens, and look for a cake or five to stuff Suppi with, because she was bored and Eriol didn't allow TV, so she needed _some_ form of entertainment.

That's what she always told Eriol, anyway, when he (half-heartedly) reprimanded her for getting Suppi drunk.

Kaho began to braid Nakuru's long, auburn hair.

Their hair color really wasn't so different. Kaho's was a little redder, a little more luxurious; but that was all.

When she was done, Nakuru stood up. "Good night," she said, a little coldly. Her head hurt, and the braid was heavy, and she was confused about what had happened that night. She wanted to go to bed.

Kaho looked hurt, but she left.

***

_and at night when you sleep  
do you dream that I will be there  
just for a minute or two do you?_

It was one in the morning, and Nakuru still couldn't get to sleep. She hugged her pillow, nibbling absent-mindedly on one of it's corners. The moon was full that night, and she was always at her most restless when that happened. 

She rolled over onto her back, and stared at the ceiling. Black and blue shadows bathed her room like a watercolor painting. 

To tell the truth, she missed Tomoeda. Sure, there was never anything to do there, and most of the people seemed to be idiots, but...

She especially missed two people in particular: Yukito, who she felt was a sort of brother to her, no matter how much she disliked him, and Touya, who she had really, _really_ liked...(it didn't hurt that he would have been a _delicious_ snack). But they had each other, and they didn't need her.

The Peachblossom and his Snow Bunny...or was it the other way around?

Did they miss her? Of course not.

There was always a boy that she would cling to, wherever she was. In Tomoeda, it had been Touya; who would it be here? Before, in England, she had clung to a pretty blonde-haired boy named Richard. He hadn't really minded it; in fact, he was a little flattered (he had a bit of a crush on Nakuru). But he had moved away to some other part of England; and she had no one else.

The glitter on her thin shoulders still hadn't washed all the way off. In the dark light, it shimmered eerily.

***

_I spend every hour waiting for a phone call  
that I know will never come_

The house was silent. Large, rickety, a character in itself: the stubborn, eccentric house was perfect for Eriol. Nakuru sometimes felt uneasy in it, dizzy; she felt like the house was watching her.

At school, the other day, the girls had giggled about boys, and moaned about blood. Nakuru never knew what to say in times like this; Eriol had simply not known the functions of the female body when he created her. But she always felt so left out, so _alone_...the thing. A thing. She was the thing. It was the thing.

Grammar; the structure of sentences and words, sister to spelling; nitpicky, frustrating, and generally annoying. Nakuru despaired over it, knowing it never would properly address her. Simply, as to not avoid confusion, Grammar glossed over what "she" was, pretending she was not there. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A piece of collage-ruled notebook paper slipped to the ground, landing quietly so as not to be noticed. 

The dining room table was old, and a heavy cherry wood; it shone in the young sunlight. It was just spring; and the weather was green, lush, immature: so young and hopeful. 

Suicide weather. 

Bored, Nakuru flipped absent-mindedly through the pages in her math book. The squiggles and lines made no sense to her. She hated school in general, like any other person. They, too, had to wear uniforms at this one: sternly starched green plaid skirts and soft, sleet gray jackets over scratchy white blouses and unbearably hot knee socks with green trim. Nakuru softly clicked her heels under the ancient, massive dining room table.

It would be incorrect to say that she was expecting a phone call. Rather, she _craved_ a phone call, like a junkie _craves_ the fix. She was alone, bored, doing homework-it was to be expected, right?

There was a tree outside the window-young, the buds just opening. White poplar, Nakuru thought it was called. It shivered in the wind, resembling a young woman stuck in the cold and rain. It quivered and shook, seeming to whisper something-

Wait. What was that?

Slowly, Nakuru turned her head, looking around, expecting Eriol and Kaho to be back from the park. Nothing.

Come to think of it, the noise didn't sound anything at all like their voices...

Nakuru turned back to her homework. She gasped.

Laying on her algebra-scribbled paper were two entwined flowers: a magnolia and a cherry blossom...

They spelled out the letters "t" and "s".

In the other room, the phone rang.

***

_heartache heartache I just have so much  
a simple love with a complex touch  
there is nothing you can say or do  
I called to let you know I'm through with you._

***

_Another chapter! Whew. I got the idea for this chapter during science. I hate science. Anyway. _

_Thank you reviewers! Whenever I read those lovely reviews you gave me, I get all warm and fuzzy inside. At least, I think that's what those feelings are. Feedback is now my new best friend._

_Just a warning: this isn't going to have S + S or E + T at all. I kind of despise those pairings. So, if you're afraid of some shoujo-ai hints, you may not want to read this. Or just skip through those parts, whatever._

_This author note is getting too long. Bye! and leave feedback!_


	3. doppleganger

iii. doppleganger

***

_hello goodbye  
I love you, I hate you  
sunset, a light shower  
a dear one, a total stranger_

***

"Hello!" Nakuru chirped into the phone, her heart still pounding. "Hiiragizawa residence, Nakuru speaking!"

A voice grumbled in Japanese, "Get me Hiiragizawa-san, now, please."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Touya-kun!" she squealed, switching to Japanese, "I haven't talked to you since forever!"

"I don't have time for this, Akizuki-san-"

"Call me Nakuru!"

"-get me Hiiragizawa-san, now," he finished. His voice was a little rough, and, to Nakuru, it possessed an urgent quality. Had something happened?

Teasingly, she demanded, "First, tell me what you want." 

"Akizuki-san!"

She twirled her finger around the telephone cord. "It's _Nakuru_, Touya-kun. _Nakuru_. Now tell me, or-"

"Or what?" he asked wearily.

"I don't know!" she giggled. 

"Just get me Hiiragizawa-san, Nakuru! _Now_!"

"You called me Nakuru!" she laughed. "Now," her voice took on a whining quality, "tell me what it is."

"Give the phone to-"

"Eriol's not here." Nakuru stuck her feet onto a nearby ledge, twirling the ballpoint pen used for taking messages with her fingers. The feeling of voices whispering was still there. She tried to ignore it.

Attempt: unsuccessful. 

They sounded like little girls voices: high-pitched, soft...they seemed familiar. What were they? White poplars were whispering trees, or something, weren't they? Maybe it was them...

Even in her mind that sounded stupid.

There was talking in the background of the phone. A soft, almost effeminate voice was arguing with Touya-kun...oh no. Nakuru groaned softly. It was Yukito, wasn't it?

She _hated_ that boy. Yes, boy, her mind persisted in calling him. They were in collage (well, Nakuru wasn't...she had failed all her classes back in Japan and had been held back here in England...damn school system), and she called them _boys_. It didn't make sense. Nothing did, really.

When she was with Yukito, an annoyed feeling grew in her-it was even stronger then the one she had with Suppi. True sibling feelings, Eriol had mused, and Nakuru agreed. He was the older brother...or maybe a twin...it didn't really matter. She disliked him anyway.

Touya got back on the phone. "Yuki demands that I tell you what happened," he said gruffly, his voice crackling with anger. 

"So, what?" Nakuru said playfully.

And he began to tell her.

***

_hello, goodnight  
crude, elegant  
sunset, a stray cloud  
a seed bed, a total stranger_

Nakuru closed her eyes. Disappeared...how could it of happened?

Eriol was on the phone now, with Touya, his smooth voice glossing over any feelings of ill wishes. It had begun to rain, and the clouds felt heavy, bloated with water: a smothering blanket worse then wool.

He had told her that a few days ago, a week, actually, Tomoyo had either said or done something...They weren't sure what. Sakura had come home from school and locked herself in her room, and had called Syoaran immediately, talking on the phone with him for hours, racking up a huge phone bill...so Touya had shouted at her to get off the damn phone. Pouting sullenly, like the young teenage girl she was, she had come down to dinner. They ate, they went to bed. 

The next morning, Touya walked up to her room, to wake her up; she was running late for school. Upon opening the door, he realized, there was no thirteen year old girl there...just rumpled and soiled pale pink sheets.

The radio was playing "Angel's Song", by Ayumi Hamasaki. As Touya stared at the dirty room, concave from Sakura's absence and the sudden lack of life, the song whispered:

_I assured myself that I wasn't alone  
running away into the night  
when all was said and done, day by day,  
all I was doing was making my loneliness more apparent._

Touya shouted down for his father to come upstairs.

***

_I've seen it, desire controlled by the past tense,  
I give up already, hurry and prove to me what's real.  
I'll take away your pain._

The next day, a frantic phone call came to the Kinomoto residence. Sonomi, Tomoyo's mother, was crying, screaming: her darling girl was missing. 

They couldn't believe it. They didn't _want_ to belive it.

***

_I've seen it,  
love and hatred filled with a sense of beauty._

Tomoyo, too, had been running late. The night before, she had crawled into the house at midnight, tired and spent. Instead of analyzing her, Sonomi had allowed her daughter to go to bed. 

Again, the next day, a maid had gone to wake up Tomoyo. The scene was all too familiar to Touya and Fujitaka. Horrified, they listened and nodded. It was the same.

Unsuspecting, the maid had found the bed unmade; however, Tomoyo's was neatly crumpled. Except, that is, for the sliver of dried and dirty blood underneath the pillow. Here, too, the radio was playing: "Keikoku" by Shiina Ringo:

_The person I met this summer doesn't exist.  
As it grew colder, I loved you without ever knowing you.  
Its too late now, to say "It was all an act"  
You cried through the reciever, but I'm the one who wants to cry._

***

"Does anyone know what happened?" Kaho asked at dinner, delicately nibbling a piece of roasted chicken. 

Eriol shook his head. "They suspected foul play, but the authorities didn't think that it was very likely." He cut a green bean in half and absent-mindedly stared at it for a few minutes, pondering what _had_ happened to Tomoyo and Sakura.

Nakuru sipped her tea. Suppi was on the floor, having fainted after woozily dancing about thanks to the strawberry shortcake Nakuru had stuffed into his mouth. Gently, she prodded him with her toe. He merely muttered something in Japanese (he always had preferred that language over English) and flopped over to his back, squashing those pretty blue wings of his.

She poked at her food once more, shoving it a little across her plate, but she knew she couldn't eat anymore. The congealed mass of fowl, and vegetables, and some strange red sauce that looked a little too much like blood for Nakuru's taste rested there as she tried to breathe without throwing up. 

"Isn't this delicious, Nakuru-chan?" Kaho asked, turning to her with a warm smile on her face. "We all should be so appreciative of Eriol-kun for making this for us..."

To Nakuru's ears, the priestess' voice had grown to a dull roar, filling the room...Eriol, too, was smiling, but it looked so _fake_-like a clown, a jester...the room was spinning...

"Excuse me," she managed to get out as she rushed to the bathroom. Downstairs, Kaho and Eriol could hear the sound of her retching.

***

_it went away,  
the poltergeist that took so after myself,  
I've already decided, to cause disaster and  
haunt you.  
_

I've given up, by all means show me  
the way to heaven. 

***

_All my reviewers are so kind! Thank you so much! But, Drew--in the eternal words of Elly--"Find your happy place!"_

_Ryu Dragon of Light--I highly suggest visiting 'Lissa Explains It All' (www.lissaexplains.com) for all your HTML needs. She explains things much clearer then I ever could, and makes it so easy! I learned how to do HTML off that site, actually._

Since it's spring break for me, expect lots of updates! Please give feedback, and thank you so much for the feedback you've already given!


	4. dear catasrophe waitress

iv. dear catastrophe waitress

***

_I'm sorry that you seem to have the weight of the world over you  
I cherish your smile  
there's a word of peace on your lips  
say it, and with tenderness I'll cherish you_

***

They were worried that she was sick, but in an odd burst of academic fervor she had insisted on going to school that day, and had thrown on her uniform, skipping break feast so she would get there on time. A friend met her on the way, slowing her down.

They walked together, the perfect picture of schoolgirl friendship. Arm in arm, Edith (for that was the girl's name) pulled Nakuru along, yammering on about her latest family fiasco as Nakuru pretended to listen, nodding now and then, to establish her mode as "friend".

Edith's bouncy blonde curls bobbed along as the shorter girl moaned about her boyfriend, her mother, her cat...Nakuru tuned her out, instead, concentrating on just what the hell had happened last night.

It was no use. She couldn't puzzle out the Mystery of What Happened to Sakura and Tomoyo (as she had dubbed it), plus, her brain hurt; it was seven in the morning, afterall. So she skipped along with Edith, who had the annoying habit of calling her "Nikki" and wearing too much of that awful cloying perfume. 

Her shoe had a pebble in it. "Just a minute," she told Edith, who nodded and waved over a few other girls and began to giggle and gossip.

Nakuru took her ugly brown loafer off, examining the inside. Ah, there it was. She flicked the small shard of rock out, and began to out her shoe back on...

What was that?

Nakuru knelt down again. The wires...something was dripping out from under the great mass of wires that the school was going to use to install the new computers that day. Sluggishly, it trickled out, until at least a few cups worth of the odd liquid was on the ground.

It was a deep red, Nakuru realized. Thick, and it stunk, like that rotting, decomposing sheep skin she had found last summer out in the fields...Oh god.

The wires were...they were...they were _bleeding_.

It sounded stupid, some rational part in Nakuru's mind whispered, but it wasn't at all...It was frightening, and it was just..._there_, god, why wasn't anyone else noticing this? Oh god oh god...had there been a murder? Nakuru tried to whip her head around, but her muscles had frozen and she couldn't move...

Slowly, the...the _blood_, for that's what it was (no use denying it), began to...well, in all honesty, it began to spell something...

Nakuru hadn't read kanji since forever (at least that's what it felt like), so it took her a few seconds to realize what the message said. Horrified, she slowly read the message...

_Do you remember me?_

Nakuru grabbed Edith's leg. Annoyed, Edith glanced down, disdain painted delicately on her features. "What is it?" she said crossly, and Nakuru pointed, hysterical...oh, god, why didn't she see it? It was right there, right in front of them...of course, Edith wouldn't have been able to read it, but the fact of the matter was that the wires were _bleeding_, and they had _spelled something out_. What was wrong with Edith and the other girls?

"Nikki," Edith said slowly, "Are you okay?" Her eyes were tinged with worry and...was that _fear_?

Nakuru jumped up, grabbing on to the blonde's shoulders and shaking them. "Don't you _see_ it?!" she screamed, pointing to the blood. "Isn't it _obvious_? Oh god oh god," she began to wring her hands, "what if someone was _murdered_? We have to call the police!" she screamed at Edith, tears streaming down her face.

Edith knelt down, examining the hard gray concrete that Nakuru was pointing at. "I don't see anything," she said, confused, running her finger through the blood. "Nikki, there's nothing there!"

But Nakuru was running away now, running back to the direction of Eriol's home. She had left her brown knapsack on the ground, and the blood was seeping into it.

***

_I'm sorry if the kids hold you in cool disregard  
I know it's hard  
Stick to what you know  
You'll blow them all to the wall_

Kaho set her teacup down. "Eriol," she said, her tear-stained face pale, "this can't be a coincidence."

Eriol was sitting on a pale blue and icy white patterned chair, his glasses glinting as the sun reflected off of them as he stared out of the large window in the drawing room. "I know," he said finally, his head slumping down as he removed his glasses and began to carefully polish them. "But I have no idea where she could be."

Kaho sniffed. "Was it...was it something we did, do you think?" She clutched the delicate porcelain teacup to her chest, her long fingers wrapped around it in the protective fashion a mother might guard her child.

Eriol looked up. "I..." he said, his voice fading away. He inhaled sharply. "I have no idea."

As these words were exchanged, the guardian in question was running through the thick green forest. Thin lines of blood decorated her legs, courtesy of the multiple pricker bushes she had ran through, and her shoes would never be the same. All over her uniform where smears of mud, and she had lost half of her tie a long time ago.

The image of the bloody writing would not leave her mind. Closing her eyes, she tripped over a large branch, and fell down into a large patch of mud.

"Damn it," she whispered pitifully. Brightly, she remembered that she had a few of those clean wipe things in her pocket, and her hand dove into it, grabbing one of them.

Happily, she opened it. 

She screamed, flinging it down to the mud, grinding it under her shoe as she hurriedly stood up and ran as fast as she could, away from that thing.

Written in a thin script, in an ink so red it could be mistaken for blood (or maybe it was?), was _Do you remember me_?

***

_You'll soon be leaving this town to the clowns who worship  
no one but themselves  
no one but themselves_

Edith sat at the wooden desk she normally shared with Nikki (their school was just so old-fashioned), head in hands, pen dangling from her lower lip as she chewed it. She was incredibly bored.

Patricia, the giggling, dumb princess of the school, walked up, and asked, "Hey, Edith, were's Nikki?"

"Huh?" Edith said. "Nikki who?"

***

_You'll blow them all to the wall   
when they realize what you've been working for  
you've been working for  
you've been working for_

***

_If that last part seemed confusing to you, don't worry. It's going to be an important plot point later on (oh dear, I'm giving away my story!) Anyway. I was watching Serial Experiments Lain before I wrote this, so...it may seem Lain-ish. Actually, it is Lain-ish. At least, that's what it's like to me._

_As always (I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, aren't I?), please review!_


	5. souretsu

v. souretsu

***

_I received a strange e-mail this morning.  
In which was written "The will to be born."  
It says, Right now I'm struggling to exhale oxygen.  
My remains have already been completely disposed of...  
They say there's no such place as Shangri-la. _

***

It had felt like she was falling. Shadows of reds and blacks: whole universes; seemed to flit about her as she fell through an abyss of ever-growing darkness. At first she had been scared, but after a second or two an odd feeling of contentment washed over her and she closed her eyes, seeing scenes of what her disjointed mind guessed was her life.

Had there been a thud, a feeling of crashing? Pain was suspiciously absent. Her eyes slowly opened to a blue-black light that filled whatever cave or part of the forest she was in.

All she had been doing was running, but she guessed she hadn't looked far enough ahead and had fallen of a cliff.

Was she dead?

"No," a quiet voice answered from the dark. "You're still very much alive."

Nakuru sat up, the blood rushing to her head. "What?" she gasped. The cave (that's what she guessed it was) was very cold: pinpricks of icy air kept stinging her face. Nakuru knew there had to be a ground, and she could feel it...but where exactly _was_ it?

"It's okay," the voice said. "I won't let you get hurt."

Standing up, Nakuru asked, fear creeping into her voice, "Where am I? Who are you?"

Her feet jerked out from under her, and she landed squarely on the rocky hard ground. Gasping slightly from the pain and sudden lack of breath, her heartbeat quickened considerably has the room whipped her forward, accelerating. A hot, white light flashed before her eyes, then was gone, leaving multi-colored spots in front of her eyes.

"Where am I?" she said again, this time to the figure on the large, white rock in the center of the room.

The figure looked up. The light brown hair was a little lankier, and slightly unkept, and the face a little thinner, and the green eyes looked tired, but Nakuru instantly knew who this older version of the girl she was so familiar with was.

"What you see," Sakura began monotonously, is the image of myself that _you_ see, and what I see is the image of _you_ that _I_ see."

"Wha-?" Nakuru began, cocking her head to the left. "I don't think I understand..."

"That's okay," Sakura answered, petting her bare toes. She was in a long white flowing shift, and seemed to glow with an eerie light. Nakuru felt scared, and a little awed, looking at this skinny creature, so different from the sunny, exuberant girl of the past.

"As long as we understand each other," she continued, "then I guess we're fine."

Nakuru began to speak with a "But I don't think-", but Sakura but cut her off.

"What is love?" she murmured, examining her delicate hand, holding it close to her face to peer at the lines and dips and dirt. Palmistry...

Quizzically, Nakuru gazed at the girl. "What?" She didn't understand any of this; not at all-why was she here? Where exactly was she?

Sakura continued. "Can love truly happen? Is it a human-only affair?" She turned her head and gave Nakuru an arrow-sharp gaze. "Or," she said, still staring, "Can it happen to you, too?"

"I am human!" Nakuru shouted, standing up. Outraged, her voice contorted in disbelief, she cried, "I feel things just the same as you! I bleed, I cry, I _love_ just like _you_!"

Sakura continued looking at the moon guardian. "Or," she mused, "is love only for a privileged few?" Pointedly, her gaze said not you. Love is never for things like you.

What the _hell_ had happened? Breathing heavily, anger splashed on her pale, canvas-like face like so many abstract paintings, Nakuru strode over to the teenaged girl. "Sakura," she cried plaintively, "what _happened_ to you? What happened?"

Sakura stared. "Nothing, Akizuki-san. I have just been part of something," her voice rose, "_that I refuse to believe exists_!"

Nakuru could not be stopped. She began shaking Sakura, screaming, "_What happened? What happened?_" Tears ran down her face. She was a person, she was human, she was, she was, she _was_!

No you're not, a tiny voice whispered in her mind. You are nothing, merely an it...

Nakuru barely realized it when Sakura disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke.

***

_If there's no such place as Shangri-la let's make one of our own._

***

Are you human?

***

The girl sitting in the wooden fold-up chair murmured, "Yes," while wiping her tear-stained face with the torn sleeve of her gray school jacket.

***

Are you human?

***

"Of course I am!" she shouted. "Eriol made to look like one, to act like one, therefore, I _must_ be human."

***

You are aware that you have wings?

***

Muffled, as her face was buried in her hands, and through the hair poking up at odd places, she whispered, "Yes. But..." she stared up at the ceiling angrily, "That's the other me!"

***

The true you.

***

"Must we discuss this?" she said softly, staring at her hands.

***

If this `other self' is the real you, then, of course.

***

She diverted the subject. "Where are we, anyway?" The girl glanced nervously about the room.

It was pitch black, sans for a spotlight shining in her face. She was sure she could hear the soft silken mumble of whispering around her, and the distinct whirr of a machine.

***

We are in your `core'; the birthplace of your psyche.

***

She shivered. "It's so cold..."

***

_The reason I never take root even when someone devours me,  
is that "all living things are alone"_

A teapot hissed in the corner, blowing steam into Eriol's face. His glasses glazed, flashing slightly: his eyes were hidden from view.

In the other room, Kaho was on the phone with the police force, frantically trying to find out just _where_ Nakuru was.

***

_Now then, You hate that it's our nature to continue  
this cycle of reincarnation. Of course you do.  
You still haven't started construction on anything.  
But you have plans to start from scratch._

***

Aren't you afraid that you can be replaced?

***

The question startled her. "What?" she gasped. "No...no, Eriol wouldn't get rid of me...he loves me..."

***

But, you're not human. Haven't you ever noticed how careless they are with their playthings? If you break, he can replace you...he _is_ the creator, after all...

***

"I'm irreplaceable," she murmured. "I'm not a toy...I'm one of them..."

***

You refer to humans as _them_ and yet you still believe you are one? That is idiotic, and incorrect. Don't be stupid; humans go through phases quickly, and once they are through with one...

***

"They go right to the next."

***

You're catching on.

***

She didn't want to believe any of this. The voice was so tempting, though; it tantalized her with horrific what if's and half-truth's.

At least, that's what she wanted to believe them to be.

A noise startled her. Looking up, she gasped slightly at the sight in front of her.

Three girls, all identical to her, stood in front of her. The one on the left seemed smaller, even though she was just as tall as the others, and meeker. Her clothes were rags, gray and lifeless, with bloodstains here and there. The second, in the middle, had a cruel air about her; blood was splattered all over her sweet white dress covered in lace and frills. Beside her, standing at the right, was dressed in a cape, and brown boots; a stopwatch and hammer were hanging loosely from her hands and belt.

She peered at the three through her hands, then raised her head quizzically. "Who...who _are_ you?" she whispered.

The one in the cape bowed. "Hello," she murmured politely. Straightening, she said, "I am your superego." She smiled wolfishly, looking like she'd enjoy swallowing Nakuru whole. She waved to the others. "This is your ego," the shy girl smiled wanly, "and...your id."

The id was dangerous, Nakuru could sense: a murderer.

Slowly, she stuttered out, "W-why are you here?"

The superego smiled a half-moon smile, her eyes narrowing in unconcealed delight as she bowed, bringing her head close to Nakuru's:

"To examine you," she whispered, her breath, stinking of rotten flesh, washing over Nakuru's face unpleasantly. 

***

_The courage to give birth to then scrap something.  
a knife cutting through thin air.  
today, placenta, tomorrow_

Floor met her startled feet. Shocked, she nearly fell onto the slick tiles; she caught herself just in time.

Wide-eyed, she peered around the sterile white room. "W-where are we?"

The girl that claimed she was the superego smiled again; sharp and a little frightening. 

"Are you alive?"

The question startled her. "O-of course!"

"Do you feelings?"

"Yes!" She was about to say something more when the caped girl cut her off.

"Only humans have feelings." She turned to Nakuru. "You are not human, therefore, you have no feelings."

Nakuru slumped down to the clean floor. It glinted with a cruel light from the all-too bright florescent lighting overhead. Burying her face in her hands, she whispered, "I thought we already discussed this."

The superego continued on. Monotonously, she said, "And if you are not human, you have no soul. If you have no soul, you are full of sin." She turned to Nakuru, a hard shimmer of light caught in her eye. "And," she said, "If you are full of sin...you cannot be saved."

The room was suddenly empty. Nakuru gasped, tears streaming down her face. "No," she moaned. "No..." 

Suddenly, she got up, and kicked the wall. The room was cold and hard and so, so _white_...it was worse then a hospital. It _was_ a hospital. It was a sadist's image of a hospital.

Nakuru pounded her fists on the wall, screaming, again and again, "_No! No! No!_" 

When a drop of blood splattered on the clean floor, the room suddenly was missing a life.

***

_I became aware coming out from between her legs.   
And here I found out "half the meaning",  
that right now I'm in the process of holding in the oxygen.  
The remains need no defending..._

Kaho clutched the lacy bed sheets in her hand, wringing them out as if they were particularly stubborn pieces of laundry. In the bed, Nakuru lay silently, her face pale, a bandage covering most of her head.

They had found her by the river, holding a stopwatch, unconscious as the water rushed past her, spitting up flecks of foam onto her ghostly cheek. And, hurriedly, they had dragged her to the hospital, and a week later, home.

***

_Let me see your face please._

***

_This chapter was absolute hell to write. Oh, well. I'll live._

Reviews make my day.


	6. title of mine

vi. title of mine

***

_why is it, that when I can't seem to get to sleep,  
no matter how long I wait,   
I end up listening to a song I should be sick of hearing by now._

Stiffly, she sat in bed, surveying her room. From her tired eyes, she slowly looked over the hazardous splash of photographs on her wall, and the pile of clothes on the floor, and the single teacup resting on the set of drawers. Her neck itched from the high collar of her cream-colored (to match her walls) nightgown. Her hair hung limply.

Kaho was asleep in a rocking chair in the hall. Eriol sat there as well, pouring over a thick book on runes or other such nonsense, with Suppi perched on his left shoulder, licking himself like a cat would (well, Eriol did base him on a cat...a panther, but that wasn't the point).

Nakuru's head ached. For everyone's constant probing into what had happened, she couldn't for the life of her remember. It frustrated and confused her; all she really could remember was a violent feeling of terror and sickness...after all, when they had found her, bits of dried-up vomit clung to her.

At the foot of her bed was a large pile of stuffed animals; some from England, some from Japan, all of them squishy large things perfect for snuggling and hugging. Picking up a panda called "Kana" (she had named her herself-that was another thing, she assigned all of them genders, as she was all too familiar with the stigma of having none), she did just that: she hugged the stuffed animal close to her, tears dripping from her eyes onto the panda's head, staining the fur.

She fell asleep in this position.

***

_what am I afraid of? what do I need?  
even if I think it over til the sparrows sing,  
come morning, I don't understand a thing._

Deep in a sleeping world, Nakuru stood in silent terror, eyes like a deer's as she stared at the figure before her. Dark, menacing...it smiled like an animal; feral, wild. Its hand was raised...it was holding something...it brought it's thumb down onto it, and the distinct _beep_ of a stopwatch echoed in the drafty room...

"Aaaah!" Nakuru screamed, waking up. She ran out of the room, hopping over the sleeping forms of Eriol, Kaho, and Suppi-chan, rushing to the bathroom. She felt like she was going to be sick.

Nothing came out as she waited patiently positioned over the porcelain bowl. Nakuru felt dizzy, and waited...and waited...but she didn't throw up.

She turned over, sitting on the cold hard floor of the bathroom. A sterile white, it smelled of disinfectant (Eriol was one of the believers that "cleanliness is next to godliness"), and everything shone brightly from being cleaned so thoroughly. Nakuru traced a flower-speckled tile with her finger, blowing a strand of hair away from her eyes; she was relieved she hadn't been sick.

"Ruby Moon?" Eriol asked through the perfectly painted door. His voice was muffled from the wood. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Eriol," Nakuru called. "I'm...I'm fine!"

"That's good," her master sighed. "So...can you come out now? I need to go to the bathroom..."

Nakuru jumped to her feet, feeling brighter then she had in a long time. "Right-o, Eriol!" she shouted, saluting the door. "Coming right out!" 

"Good to see you acting yourself again," Eriol said gently as she marched past him.

***

_I pretended to want loneliness  
I was well aware of the warmth of your hand.  
I was just afraid that if you touched me with those hands,  
I'd someday have to leave you._

The garden was green, tranquil, and vibrant with life. A sparrow's song exploded from the bush, twittering loudly as Nakuru poked it. She laughed as she let it go. "Fly away!" she shouted at it. 

A rose bush twined it's way around the ladder that hung against a tree trunk. Skipping, with a blue tin watering can in hand, Nakuru proceeded to (all in good nature) drown the poor little buggers. Happily, she danced around the garden, accidently killing everything in sight.

A robin chirped feebly, after being hugged tightly by her. 

Kaho watched, smiling, from the window. It felt wonderful to see Nakuru back to normal, without any of those nightmares she lately had had. The authorities still where on the watch to see if any kidnappers were running around, but Eriol had managed to keep the doctors away from Nakuru (just think what they would do if they discovered she was actually genderless...). How, Kaho didn't know, but then again, she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know.

Nakuru bounded into the house, her pale blue skirts twirling about her as she ran to the library. "SUPPI-CHAN!" she shouted. Kaho closed her eyes, bracing herself for the fight to come.

***

The figure snapped her hands together, glancing behind her. "So...she _seems_ normal..." it murmured.

Beside her, sitting on the ground, another girl smiled shyly, grabbing onto a doll. The other figure glanced down, smiling benevolently. "Let me see," she whispered, and watched as the other girl delicately, carefully snapped the head off the doll.

Up in the tree, the third lay on the branch, kicking the tree. Something was hanging from her mouth, swinging bloodily, as she cuddled the broken body of a rabbit in her lap. Blood was smeared over her cheeks as she hungrily chewed the rabbit's heart.

"I guess we're ready," the first figure said, staring at the house. She set off her stopwatch, and a wild beeping began.

***

_I've done such a good job of suppressing   
my sobbing, embarrassed at the thought  
of wanting to be touched by others,  
I dared call it pride. Aa_

***

"Ah, Nakuru-chan, you have a package from someone!" Kaho exclaimed, stepping in from checking the mail. Smiling, she handed the medium-sized white box to the curious guardian.

Nakuru rushed to her room, ripping the box apart on the way. Laughing from excitement, she flipped the box open, letting whatever was in it drop onto the pristine white sheets of her bed.

Her scream resounded around the house, as she ran out of the room, covering her nose from the stench, trying to escape the image imprinted on her mind of the rotting, half-eaten rabbit.

***

_Is it alright, if I sing that I want to be touched by others?_

***

_Okay, then. Everyone seems so scared that I'm going to stop this story! Don't worry, the adventure's barely begun! This thing is going to be long, and probably hell for me, but that's okay, because I'm wonderful person (ha)._

All my reviewers are so kind! I've decided to (finally) address them! So...

~~~PUCK'S SUPER SPECIAL OMAKE DEALIE~~~

Lizzie - I'm not turning suicidal. Don't worry. ^^  
sign58 - Ah, you're catching on. Yes, these are song excerpts. At the end of the story, I'll post a "soundtrack" thing. Thank you for reviewing my other story! I wish more people would (hint, hint).  
Infamous Monk - I don't want to anger any gods/religious figures! *hides from religious figures* Thank you for the huge compliment! This story's going to be a LONG one...  
Cygna-hime - Oh, you're so nice! I love the little Nakuru comment. And, I checked out your profile--you're making a Dragonlance site! *squeals* You have instantly been elevated in my eyes. *steals away all the kender and hides them under her bed*

Okay! See you, space--er, that's not right! I need a catchphrase. Anyway, see you next time, all my lovely readers! Review or I'll eat you!


	7. mary, mary

vii. mary, mary

***

_no virgin me  
for I have sinned  
I sold my soul  
for sex and gin  
go call a priest  
all meek and mild  
and tell him "mary  
is no more a child."_

Terrified, she could hear the crack of a whip, the click of a stopwatch, the sound of laughter so like her own, but so cruel...She raced through the green, musty, old forest, where the trees groaned with age and the underbrush threatened to drown her. Thorns gashed small pinpricks of holes in her dress, snagging and claiming slashes of fabric as their own until the hem of her skirt was nothing more then rags.

How had this happened?

No time for thinking, Nakuru silently chided herself as she leapt over a fallen moss-grown log. Just-run!

***

It had started with that rabbit, hadn't it? She had screamed, and flung it on her bed, sprinting through the house. Where were Kaho and Eriol? Where was Suppi-chan? The house was eerily empty, the walls muttering stories of old to themselves.

A pitcher of milk in the kitchen had mysteriously spoiled.

Nakuru ran out of the house, fear gripping her. Her heart jumped like a fish into her mouth, as her head pounded in a rhythm not unlike the beats that prevailed in the dreamy techno tunes the club she had gone to played. The club-that had started this whole mess, hadn't it? If only she had listened to Eriol's uneasiness, and had sat at home reading like he wanted her to!

Then, as sudden as fog in the morning, _they_ had appeared. It was insane; the superego (that's who she was, wasn't she? Nakuru was confused) had been riding a chariot! It was like in old Roman times...The superego was laughing, slightly, a whip in her hand, urging the invisible beast pulling the chariot to run faster. For whatever reason, the ego and id did not accompany her.

The surroundings became a blur as Nakuru ran as fast as her body would allow. Then, darkness fell as she unwittingly tripped over a rock.

***

_it's raining stones  
it's raining bile  
from the luxury  
of your denial  
so I don't deny  
I don't make do  
I'll press alarms  
place bets on truth_

When her eyes fluttered open (to quote so many cliches), Nakuru shivered. She sat up, shaken, wondering where she was...It was cold, misty, and overcast, with a blue and gray tinge to everything...

Someone was crying. It sounded sort of like the mewling sounds a kitten makes, except more human, and feminine. Nakuru crawled over to the direction of the sound, making her way carefully through fields of wheat.

There was a crossroads, she could see, really just a four-way path of dirt, and sitting on the side of them, near a corn patch, was a figure dressed in a frilly white doll-like dress. It was obviously female, and sitting on a worn baby blanket. Something was in her hands...pushing away some of the crops, Nakuru could see it was some sort of embroidery thing. A circle, or whatever it was called. The girl was crying as she carefully made a few careful stitches, peering intently at her sewing.

Nakuru stood up, wobbling a little; her ankle throbbed dully. She must have landed wrong. Quickly, she walked to the girl.

It was Tomoyo, she realized blankly. Yes, an older version of the girl...but still Tomoyo, Sakura's best friend.

The girl was beautiful. A little enviously, Nakuru watched her. She had long dark hair, and such pretty pale skin, though her face was a little red and pinched from the crying...

Oh god! Nakuru nearly slapped herself. The girl was _crying_ and all she was doing was admiring her!

"Um," she said nervously. "Um, are you...okay?" Stupid, she inwardly scolded herself. Of course she wasn't!

Delicately, Tomoyo looked up. "Akizuki-san!" she gasped tearfully. "How did _you_ get here?"

"Please, call me Nakuru!" Nakuru begged, kneeling down to the girl. Quickly, a little embarrassed, she grabbed the younger girl's hand, looking into her eyes, pleading. Tomoyo stared, then blushed slightly.

"O-of, of course, Nakuru-kun..." Tomoyo bit her lip, looking down at her embroidery.

"What's the matter?" 

Tomoyo drew a sharp breath. "Nothing..." she whispered. It didn't work. After a few minutes worth of prodding by Nakuru, she began to cry again.

"I-I can't tell!" she sobbed. Tears dropped onto her sewing, staining the cloth. "It's...oh, Sakura-chan!" She blinked blearily. "I don't even _know_ where she is! I feel so horrible, and alone..." she trailed off.

Nakuru muttered, "Believe me, you don't want to know..." Tomoyo looked a little confused, but went on.

"I think, though," she said, lifting her chin. "I think I will tell you." She blinked, as though to drive the tears away, and smoothed her dress down.

"It was after school," she whispered. "And I was walking...I was walking home with Sakura-chan. And...I don't know...I think...I'm not sure. I just turned to her, and..." Tomoyo began to hiccup, wiping her hands against her eyes roughly to keep the tears at bay, "And I said, `Sakura-chan...I love you.'"

Nakuru inhaled sharply. 

"And then," Tomoyo continued, sobbing, "She just...she just blanched, and then she said slowly, `You mean like friends, right, Tomoyo-chan?' And I just...oh, I just _shook my head no_. And she..._she ran away! She ran away from me!_"

A roar and then...

...silence.

***

_whatever happened to mary?_

***

PSYCHE:

_(noun)_: 

SOUL, SELF; also: MIND 

***

The one great difference between humans are their indulgences. Other than that, everyone is essentially the same.

***

We all love our mothers.

***

But what happens when we don't have a mother?

***

_I'm so up and down  
and I love what's not allowed  
I was lost, now I see:  
and now I'm growing old disgracefully_

Whatever happened to Mary?

***

_I'm so sorry this took so long! The thing is...I had writer's block. And school. Which I loathe._

Sign58 - my name comes from the character Puck in **A Midsummer Night's Dream**. I saw that last summer in Ashland, Oregon, during their Shakespeare Festival and quickly became obsessed. My favorite character in that play is Puck, who I absolutely adore, so I thought...why not? 


	8. white roses for blue girls

viii. white roses for blue girls

***

_white roses for blue girls. grey days for the detectives._

***

Hard, sun-baked asphalt. Air that shimmered from the misty clouds of dust that rose up from the orange-brown ground.

Right foot first. Good. Now, the left follows that, and repeat. Walking. Good, good.

Cracked leather suitcase with well-worn handles placed uncomfortably in soft, white hands. City girl's hands.

Not a girl.

Skirt on, though, and long hair. Crossdresser?

Not a boy, either.

The sun beats down, threatens to give her (that's what we'll call it for now) heat stroke. The stench of sweat, and nicotine from the cigarettes she inexplicably found in the unfamiliar suitcase and, on a whim, decided to try out. No sunglasses, though. Is nothing sacred? 

She glances down at the ground, sees nothing, than looks up, sighing at the stretch of dry road that met her squinting eyes. It's hopeless, her sagging heart tells her.

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

Her head darts back to the prim, demanding voice, and her eyes are met with one of the strangest girls she's ever seen. Raspberry colored hair, long, with two buns (...this hairstyle is suddenly familiar), and neon-green-yellow skirts and drawers and petticoats and tube top. And strapped on fairy wings. And scrunchy bracelets on both wrists and ankles, which are also met with ballet shoes the same color.

"Are you me?" Nakuru asks tiredly. She's familiar with the drill.

"No," the thing snaps. "I'm the tooth fairy." She sighs, rolling her eyes to the sky, flipping her hair. "I'm your conscience."

Doubtful, Nakuru asks, "I thought it was a cricket...?"

"Nevermind," her conscience snaps, turning away from Nakuru (who notices that the strange girl is floating a good inch of two above the ground). "I see you don't need me."

"Wait!" Nakuru calls. "Help me...please?"

***

_and all we want is for you girls to come home soon._

***

"So, what you're saying," Nakuru says, tapping her knees, "is that this is some mystical road that I need to take to get somewhere where I need to do something."

"Yes."

"Well, that sure explains it all."

***

Left alone, now, Nakuru watches the silver pale moon rise in the inky sky. She was scared. She had no idea where the hell she was, she had a suitcase full of weird crap, and she was supposed to walk towards certain death.

What the hell was going on?

***

_on her bed she left a letter. asked her friends to never forget her.  
told her friends that she wouldn't be coming home soon._

***

She set her suitcase down, staring at the barren landscape, squinting from the sun and darting her head around. "I think," she began, "I think I'm lost."

The lands were dry, unfriendly and wary to strangers. No water for miles, no shade, no trees, no people, no _life_...that kind. Instead of being frightened, though, Nakuru just felt nauseous, and a little dizzy.

If she got hopelessly lost, and never found her way out, these lands would be unrelenting. Grabbing the cracked, heavy suitcase from the side of the road she had placed it, she hurried along, head down as if she was walking through a room crowded with strangers.

Which, in a way, she was.

***

CONVENIENT _(adjective)_

1. Suited to personal comfort or ease.

2. Placed near at hand.

-CONVENIENTLY _(adverb)_

***

The woman pursed her poison-cherry red lips and snapped the enamel case shut with her pale, bony ostrich fingers. Next to her, lounging on a plastic fold-up chair was the Superego.

"It really isn't fair, is it?" the Superego said dryly, her voice a desert. Bored, she examined her blood red nails, licking her cracked and blistered lips with a wormlike tongue.

"You don't even know what that means," the woman said, turning away from the video camera. "And you have no place to talk, after completely failing your job."

The woman was tall, with hair that was a garish red color that was obviously cheaply dyed. Bony, she was dressed in a scientist's lab coat, its pristine whiteness matching her skin. Black, boxy glasses rested lightly on her pert nose, and her height was added to even more by the bright crimson high heels she was precariously balanced on.

"Oh, it wasn't a complete disaster," the Superego lazily responded. 

"Yes, it was," the woman said. "Thanks to you, Hope got to her, and led her to the Babel Road." She flicked a few switches on the large gray equipment that hummed around the room. "If she makes it to the Mountain, then who knows what will happen..."

"You've forgotten," the Superego said, "she lost Tomoyo and Sakura."

The woman leaned against the computer, thinking for a minute. Slowly, she said, "But Tomoyo doesn't matter; all we needed her for was to spur on Sakura. And if Sakura has contact with the artifact, then our plans won't be needed and we shall be saved."

"But..."

"Yes, if she finds Sakura, and connects with her, then everything will be ruined. If she and Sakura commune, and the artifact finds its way into Akizuki's hands, then mankind will be destroyed."

***

_and all we want is for you girls to come home soon.  
no one, no one, no one, no one will ever grow up again._

***

_Well, this chapter is kind transition: it's still the same story, but I'm going to be showing more of the big picture from now on. First, this story was all "Nakuru is being inexplicably haunted!". And now I'm going to show **why** she's being "haunted". And hopefully it won't turn out to be crap._

This story *might* take a bit of a backround if I start this one Evangelion story that the plot bunnies have decided to foist on me. Hopefully not, but just warning you guys. But, I can promise you that I will NEVER abandon this story until it's finished, no matter how many FLCL drabbles I am sidetracked with! I will prevail! *cue disco music*

As always--REVIEW! *__*


	9. ishiki

viiii. ishiki

***

_if I was smarter, to say it bluntly, I could get things done easier.  
if they call me a child, it'll be over and done with, and I won't have to dirty  
myself_

***

It was dark, and the walls were made of a thick stone that trapped the coldness inside of that strange cave. The doctor shivered, and absent-mindedly ran her left hand through her hair, clicking her heels and taking her glasses off.

Around her, in the midst of sitting down, were a few other scientists, and sitting at the head of the square slab of stone they used at the table was a weathered man. His skin hung limply from his brittle bones (he was very old) and a long, surgical white bandage was wrapped tightly around the top of his head, covering his left eye. His brown corduroy pants were very worn, but still crisp, and the lab coat hung stiff from starch.

When he stood up, the room fell silent, and a gauzy spell drifted over them like a lady's veil.

"Good afternoon," the man said curtly, his voice gravelly and hoarse. The others chorused the greeting back to him, like schoolchildren. 

"I hope you can assure me that the project is going well, hmm...Dr. Cain?"

The doctor straightened in her chair with a start. "O-oh, of course, Sir Marduk. Of course!"

"Has the end of the world been apprehended?"

"You mean Akizuki-san?" Dr. Cain (for that was her name-Edith Cain) looked down in her lap, her hands fearfully shredding her handkerchief into thin strips of cotton.

The room was silent as everyone turned to watch her.

Sir Marduk sighed. "Yes, of course. Akizuki-san, as you call it."

More silence.

Then-

"No, sir," Dr. Cain whispered. "No, she has not been stopped."

"_Imbecile_," Sir Marduk seethed. "_Idiot_! How could you have let her go?!"

"I-I don't know sir."

The meeting went on, but Dr. Cain tuned most of it out.

***

"Eh, Ibuki-san?"

"Yes, doctor?" the young woman asked, her face earnest.

"Burn the manuscript of that meeting, will you?"

"Of course, Dr. Cain."

***

_I guess people like helpless situations  
"Don't lie to me"_

***

"Dreamworlds and mind-screws are your domain of expertise, aren't they?!" She slammed the notebook onto the wooden desk.

"Of course," the Superego responded from the chair where she was hanging. 

"Then why won't you do it?!"

"This sort of situation calls for something a little more...terrifying," the Superego murmured, twirling an empty wine glass in her pale fingers. Thin, delicate little cracks besmirched its surface, so faint that only the remains of its flirtation with shattering were visible.

Dr. Cain slumped into her chair, glasses in her hands as she stared at the ceiling, frustrated. "What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing much," the Superego said. "Just lend me the Id and I think I'll manage..."

***

Nakuru's eyes cracked open to the gloomy gray-blue air. Smog drifted over the sooty city, and horses stumbled over slick, cracked cobblestones. 

"Oh god," she moaned, lifting herself up slowly until she was sitting down on the misty ground. "Where am I _now_?"

It looked just like nineteenth century England, to tell the truth.

Nakuru walked gingerly down the street she inexplicably was on, and peeked around the corner. Her head hurt. Tiredly, she brushed her fingers onto where it pounded the most.

They were met with hair sticky and matted down into tangles from red-black blood.

Nakuru gasped, bringing her fingers closer to her face, peering down at them. What the hell had just happened? She felt sick, and, ran back down the alleyway, stopping when the vomit came.

She wiped the speckles of barf away from her face, wishing a stream was near her-anything to clean herself up with.

***

_I can't sleep at night, and fail in my double suicide  
in my memories an oxidized mouthwash, camouflage _

***

Somehow (she wasn't quite sure), she had wandered into this strange, cramped little flower shop sitting on the edge of a busy street, hidden away from view. Her feet had told her to go, and so she did, her head heavy with the pounding down hallucinations of hope that had haunted her since she had woken up.

Hope for what?

Nakuru stepped in, the bell that hung from the door clanging noisily.

No one except an old woman behind the counter and her customer (a young woman in her twenties with ash-blonde hair and a dress all of black), and they ignored her as they argued over the price of orchids. She glanced around the white-washed room full to bursting with flowers just past their prime, wilting a little, until something caught her eye:

Sitting in the back of the room, hunched over a wreath-in-progress, skinny and in a white peasant blouse and knee-length blue skirt, was Sakura.

She was humming something to herself as she threaded berries and evergreen branches together, even though it was months till Christmas. Nakuru ran up to her, to say something, anything...

The pull of a gun. Then a bang. And, then, finally, Sakura slumped over onto her pretty half-done wreath, blood oozing from her as the Id began to dine on her heart, tendons hanging from the id's mouth, and Nakuru screaming.

Behind the counter, the Superego pulled the gun away. 

"Gotcha," she said, smiling sadistically.

***

_the answer is pure. we're attracted to each other.  
this is how I love you, I think._

***

_My English/Social Studies teacher has foisted a big research paper on **Silent Spring** by Rachel Carson onto me, and in two weeks the jazz choir I am a part of will be gone all weekend at a jazz festival in Mt. Hood. Goodie. So, this week I will work like mad to update and then...try to write if i have the time and am not failing._

Infamous Monk--Well, I guess there will be OC's...especially now that Dr. Cain has come into play! About her name--Edith means "war" and Cain was the first man in the Bible to kill anyone. Plus, I was reading Count Cain the night before I wrote this. ^_^ And there will be sort of an undercurrent of Tomoyo/Sakura, but the story really is Nakuru's...Tomoyo and Sakura just happen to be a part of it. Sorry for not answering your questions before! Review, everyone!


	10. joga

x. jóga

_all the accidents that happen  
follow the dot_

Nakuru woke with a start, her thin chest heaving under her dove gray school jacket as she sat up quickly, cold sweat on her brow, and the blue-black light of the sky bathing her in its hues.

"I thought you would never wake up," a voice said. Nakuru looked up. It was her conscience. It was standing on the ground (a first), and its bright outfit seemed to glow in the dark, its hair swaying and shimmering in the breeze and the light of the silvery scrap of the moon.

Nakuru gasped for breath. "I just had the worst dream in my life," she whispered fretfully.

The conscience tapped its foot impatiently on the firm brown ground. "Too bad," it said indifferently, "It's time to go."

"Go where?"

"To...the Mountain."

Something in its voice seemed to capitalize the "m". Warily, Nakuru stood, clutching the suitcase.

"Go on that road," her conscience whispered, pushing her along, "And be careful! Danger lurks..."

"That's really corny, you know," Nakuru complained before she broke out into a run. Something about the night instilled a sense of dread in her.

When she was out of sight, the conscience turned. "You," it whispered.

A figure emerged from the shadows. "Yes," it sighed. "Me."

The person was in the shape of a woman, with long black hair and pale white skin that seemed stretched and all together too tight over the pointed bones. A rusted chain with a spiked ball hanging from it was in the woman's hand.

"Despair," the day-glo girl whispered.

"Yes, indeed...Hope."

Hope raised her head, the raspberry hair hanging in front of her eyes. Slowly, she brushed it back, and a sword appeared in her right hand. "And now it's time for our battle, isn't it?" she sighed, weighing the weapon in her hand.

"Unfortunately, yes," Despair said.

"And the victor follows her...and decides which thread of fate she will follow..."

"Yes."

Hope straightened, looking determined. "Then let's get it over with."

Despair leaped into the air, her weapon high behind her shoulder. Hope dodged just as the spiked ball ground into the dirt, leaving a miniature crater in its wake.

"You don't seem too into this," Despair noted, hopping towards Hope, who parried her attack deftly.

"I could care less what happens," Hope responded, nearly splitting Despair's head open.

"Why?" Despair swung her weapon in a deadly arc, scraping pieces of fabric from Hope's outlandish skirt, who in turn swept her sword in a reverse butterfly sweep, scratching Despair's smooth arm. The thinnest trickle of blood seeped out.

"Humans will die either way, won't they?" Hope forced Despair into a position that gave her two choices: block or die.

Of course, Despair couldn't really die. She would always turn up somewhere, lurking in the depths of mortal's hearts, prepared to strike at any moment. Hope, however, was not as persistent; mortals could forget her, and with great ease.

Despair smashed her weapon right at Hope's head, who hurriedly danced away. They fought for what seemed like eternities; one always managed to break free of the trap of blocking and assault her opponent.

Finally, though, Hope pinned Despair. "I'm kind of sorry, you know," she whispered, just as she drove her sword deep into Despair's heart. Blood stained the purple tunic-dress that Despair had been clothed in, and turned the front of it black. Hope slowly drew her sword out, the blood sticking desperately to the metal, and, sighing, turned and disappeared.

Despair nodded off to sleep, plotting where she would appear next.

_coincidence makes sense  
only with you_

The road was like a modern highway: hot, hard, and seemingly endless. Nakuru scraped her feet along it as she slowed to a walk, her head pounding.

She wondered if she would ever get to wherever the hell it was she was going to.

_you don't have to speak  
I feel  
emotional landscapes  
they puzzle me_

It was a sterile, cold room, with light blue tiles interlaced with cream ones. In a corner of the room, a washing machine and dryer stood, silent.

The Superego was rummaging through a sheet that was crumpled up inside a plastic pale blue laundry basket in her arms. Satisfied, she dropped the last of her "laundry" into the machine, where it hit with a resounding _thump_.

The Ego crept past her, stopping and watching. Without even turning, the Superego replied, "I'm doing the wash."

The Ego didn't say anything.

"What is it?" the Superego repeated. "Nothing much."

A pause.

"Just...Sakura-chan."

Dots of blood formed a crazy mixed-up pattern on the discarded fabric that lay rumpled in the basket as the Superego began whistling to herself, turning the washing machine on, ignoring the Ego as it slid out of the room.

then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this

_I'm so sorry for making everyone wait so long! I hate writers block. And school._

This weekend I'll be going to Mt. Hood for my jazz choir festival. Wish me luck! Don't expect an update for probably a week. And thanks you SO MUCH to everyone who has read and reviwed this! looks at how many reviews she has and screams ohmygod I have so many supporters!! Thanks, everyone! Thank you, thank you, thank you!


	11. this fire

xi. this fire

_eyes  
boring a way through me  
paralyse  
controlling completely_

The room was large and spacious; unfriendly in its manner. On the screen built into the wall, a series of photographs (some color, some black and white, some grayscale with a sudden splash of red) flashed in rapid succession.

The huge, gaping holes for windows where covered in white sheets that had been stripped from the bed, which looked lonely in its nakedness, off in the corner. An air of desolation hung like dust particles. Faint finger stretches of light danced through the mourning windows.

Sitting in the middle of this, a dark haired teenage girl slowly and dully went through the process of burning thousands upon thousands of pictures, video tapes, and other treasures.

See Tomoyo.

See Tomoyo cry.

See the paper face of Sakura go up in flames.

Stubbornly, she tried to wipe away the childish tears. It didn't work. Her marble eyes, moments before so glass-like, had turned human.

She wished a nightmare would come and eat them.

Something cruel, and the shadow of humankind...pluck her eyes away, pop them between the teeth it had instead of eyes...

For nights, Tomoyo had stayed in her sanctuary of a room. It was like returning to the womb. Skittery, nervous, and sad; the poor girl.

Poor Tomoyo.

For nights, Tomoyo had stayed awake, refusing to return to the world of dreams she had occupied only a week before.

_now  
there is a fire in me  
fire that burns_

Her mother had given up in her adolescent daughter, and, instead, devoted all of her time to her work, flinging herself in a plastic world of toys. Dolls, she discovered, made much better daughters than the real thing.

Now, Tomoyo's only companions where the flame of the lantern she fed, and the whispering, shifting memories she tried desperately to purge from herself.

A strange fervor had built inside her tired body, and, the night she had stumbled home (much to her concerned mother's relief), she had dragged boxes of Sakura-chan out into the air, and had proceeded to began the ritualistic burning of that cruel little girl.

Syoaran had called her that night, and, she had foolishly picked the phone up. A mistake.

He hadn't been concerned for her welfare at all; instead, he had urgently begun to interrogate her on the whereabouts of Sakura. He had even gone so far to blame her with Sakura's disappearance: if it hadn't been for her confessing her love, then Sakura would still be there...

Alright. Maybe it _was_ her fault.

Shaking her head, her fervor regenerating, she began to burn everything at an even steadier pace.

_fire that burns_

It loomed in front of her. Nakuru gaped. Finally, she had reached the Mountain.

Fright welled up inside of her, and she began to cry.

_this fire is out of control  
I'm going to burn this city  
burn this city, burn this city_

Dr. Cain carefully removed her glasses, and set them down on the gray machinery. She sighed through her teeth, accidently getting a paper cut from her book, and hissed softly.

In the corner, the Ego sat, crying silently, a dopy smile on its face, while it strangled its dolly in a good-natured manner.

Dr. Cain gripped her forehead, feeling a headache well-up. She hated babysitting the Ego (all of them, even its siblings, did).

And to top it all off...the Experiment was getting closer.

_if this fire is out of control   
then I  
I'm out of control  
and I burn_

The scientists took notes silently on the floating body of the Superego. A hard glint of an insane sort of fervor shined in their eyes. They would do anything for this...

_eyes  
burning a way to me  
overwhelm  
destroying so sweetly_

Tomoyo howled to her pillow, unlocked the door, and ran out of her room, into the unsuspecting house.

A lighted match led her way, and, as she ran sobbing out of the house, dropped to the floor, lighting the carpet into a sweltering garden of flames.

_now  
there is a fire in me  
fire that burns  
fire that burns_

_this fire..._

_Okay. I'm back._

_butterflydreaming - I love The Sandman! I'm a little over-obsessed with it, in fact...I love, love, love the Endless. Thank you so much for comparing me to Gaiman! I am extremely flattered!_


	12. girl anachronism

xii. girl anachronism

_you can tell  
from the scars on my arms  
and the cracks in my hips  
and the dents in my car  
and the blisters on my lips  
that I'm not the carefullest of girls._

The mountain was dry, ragged, and craggy, with as much character as a face. Nakuru wiped her brow, sighing dramatically.

She had been climbing this god-forsaken mountain for what seemed like _hours_. The thick wool of her uniform's skirt and blazer was excruciating. Hot, itchy, and absolutely horrid. It dragged across her skin, finding new ways each hour to hurt her scabs and lumps and bruises.

She couldn't believe how she was letting herself go.

Sighing again, and silently unbuttoning her blazer and throwing it over her shoulder, Nakuru plodded along the mountain, feeling like a zombie.

_you can tell  
from the glass on the floor  
and the strings that're breaking  
and I keep on breaking more  
and it looks like I am shaking  
but it's just the temperature_

Had she-? Yes! Her eyes widened as she stared out at the peak of the mountain. She had reached the top!

She started to walk again, but a voice-"Just where do you think you are going?"-stopped her. Nakuru turned.

Sitting on a throne-shaped rock was the Superego, a smirk on its face. The Id stood behind its sibling (or other half...a puzzle piece indeed), and the Ego sat on one of the arms of the rock.

Three's a sacred number, isn't it?

They were a triumvirate, and they _almost_ were the other three...furies. Yes. Except that here, and now, they were the Psyche...they always were in power, no matter where they were.

A lazy smile played on the Superego's features. "Here I am..." it said in a sing-songy voice. "Are you ready to play?"

There was a tap on Nakuru's shoulder. She turned, fear in her eyes...to meet the eyes of Hope.

"I am Hope," she said simply. It. (Do ideas have genders?) "Take my hand."

Nakuru's hand wobbled out and...

"Good."

It got dark.

_and then again  
if it where any colder I could disengage  
if I where any older I would act my age_

Darkness. Swallowing...hungry, hungry, darkness. A chair, and a spotlight. This scene was familiar.

And the High Inquisitor for _this_ trial was Hope, sitting as a judge. The Triumvirate sat in lesser seats around it.

There was a faint sound of feathers, of wings, like in the poem.

And if you are human you have no soul.

"But I _am_ human."

We are disappointed. We already went over this, didn't we?

"Look, I have two eyes-ten fingers, ten toes-a brain, a mind-I am not an animal..."

Didn't we?

"Y..yes."

And dolls...

"Who said I was a doll?!"

It's common knowledge.

"I am my own person!"

Humans always feel the need to create...but, as their fickle nature decrees, they soon grow bored, restless, abandon their toys...

"I am not a doll!"

Oh, dear, where have we heard _that_ one before? It's almost funny, isn't it...?

"I'm human!"

The question is...what do you fear?

"Nothing!"

[...]

"...to be disliked."

What do you fear?

"To be unloved..."

This is called anxiety.

"I fear..."

"I fear..."

Anxiety is a very human emotion. However, it can be pre-programmed into a hard drive, or something along those lines.

"And so you're saying I'm a _robot_?"

No, don't be stupid. Merely...a closely rendered copy.

Make that _very_ closely rendered.

"I'm human."

Fatal flaws, though, make you imperfect, and, therefore, not human.

"Eriol says no one's perfect."

He doesn't want to hurt the feelings he places on you, like someone would do to a pet.

"I fear being disliked, don't I?"

"Is anyone there?"

"Answer the question?"

[...]

"I hate being alone."

And who?

"Touya dislikes me. If no one likes me, I am unworthy. I am nothing."

Human behavior.

"Touya-kun, I _love_ you..."

But of course you really didn't, because you are a liar.

"Doesn't _anyone_ love me?"

You are merely a cheap copy, taking up the space another human could have used!

"I...I..."

Selfish!

"I'm alone, so I'm lonely...There's no difference!"

The ugliest word in your mind is selfish. If you are to be female (thus becoming closer to humanity), you must be caring, unselfish, and give yourself up for the one's you love. But these are not bonds, so you find nothing wrong with doing things for your own end. Bonds, you believe, would strengthen you, but you have none.

[an ugly red word spray-painted on my mind]

Selfish!

"I'm sorry."

And you are a liar, as well. Oh, what can be _done_? Is there a method in this madness? They lied, too! Selfish! Pinning the blame on others...

There are lights in her mind, making everything except her sobbing body and the plastic chair she sits on, disappear, and she is glad.

_but I don't think that you'd believe me  
it's  
not  
the  
way  
I'm  
meant  
to  
be  
it's just the way the operation made me._

Why is it so dark out?

It's the same way inside her mind.

She bites the insides of her cheeks to keep from screaming

and

one by one

the tears

f a l l.

_and you can tell  
from the state of my room  
that they let me out too soon  
and the pills that I ate  
came a couple years too late_

Inside the hospital room, Eriol and Kaho, dressed soberly in black, waited for the earthquake of tears to come as they watched they unconscious, broken body of the guardian struggle

but the tears never came.

Inside the Kinomoto residence, a wake was being held for a little girl stuck in the dreamland, her body sleeping soundly in a ditch off to the right of the road.

Inside a fairy-tale mansion, a girl sat, chained to her memories, poking at the ashes of what had once been the living room, and was now only dust.

Humans are always remembered in history for their mistakes.

_and I've got some issues to work through  
there I go again  
pretending to be you  
make-believing   
that I have a soul beneath the surface  
trying to convince you  
it was accidentally on purpose._

_Why is it that teachers always bombard students with work in the last two weeks of school?_

_This is actually only the first half of this chapter...sorry _


	13. girl anachronism ii

xiii. girl anachronism ii

I am not so serious

this passion is a plagiarism

I might join your century

but only on a rare occasion

I was taken out before the labor pains set in

and now behold the world's worst accident

"The jury's still out on this one, folks," the Superego laughed into the gavel, as if it where a microphone. Nakuru sat in her chair, feeling helpless. Her mind hurt. Her body hurt.

When would the hurting stop?

"It's not true," she whispered, gritting her teeth. Then, louder - "It's not true!"

"Hmm?" The Superego asked, interested, its eyes locking on her from its place high upon the podium. "Did you say something?"

"This isn't true! It's a dream, or a hallucination!" Nakuru stood up, hands on her hips. "Nyah, you can't get me!"

"This is absurd, if anything," Hope muttered. The Id looked at it ferociously. Hope looked down at the Id, which was on its knees, looking all together like some sort of dog straining against its leash. A Napoleon complex: cute in dogs, dangerous in humans. Hope lazily bopped it on the head, saying, "Down, girl."

The Superego and Nakuru where engaged in a shouting contest, with the Ego fearfully looking onward from its place on the left of the Superego.

"I'm misplaced!" Nakuru was yelling.

Angrily, the Superego screamed back, "You're just some sort of accident! No one loves you!"

Nakuru smiled cutely. "Of course!" She raised her arms. "Behold the world's worst accident - "

I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM 

Hope stood up. "Enough." The Superego fell silent, a paranoid look painted on its face, and, slowly, let its raised fist drop down. It looked like it knew what would happen.

Hope let a hand rest on the sword strapped to its waist. "Enough," it said again. "Enough."

Turning sharply, heels clicking, it began to speak.

"It is time," it said, with the look of an icy general. "Nakuru," it waved its hand, "come. And," it turned to the Superego, who was now trembling, "I think we've had enough of you." Its hand passed across the Superego's eyes, and the being went limp, falling into Hope's arms, who then dropped it to the gilt chair it had been sitting on earlier.

It turned to the Ego.

and you can tell

from the red in my eyes

and the bruises on my thighs

and the knots in my hair

and the bathtub full of flies

that I'm not right now at all

there I go again

pretending that I'll fall

The Ego nodded, and Hope wiped its closed eyes, gently letting the rag-doll figure of the thing lie delicately on the floor.

And suddenly, it was right next to Nakuru. "Are you ready?" it said evenly, hand on its sword.

Nakuru shrugged. "Am I ever?"

They turned, and strode out of the theater, letting the dark of the matinee fall like a curtain behind them.

don't call the doctors cause

they've seen it all before

they'll say

" just

let

her

crash

and

burn

she'll learn

the attention just encourages her."

The pair walked through the tarnished and dusty theater quickly and quietly. Nakuru matched the confident stride of Hope, but with the slightest bit more hesitation. She sighed, running her hands through her hair, watching the clouds of dust leap and fall and then, finally, lay back down.

At long last they managed to stop. It was at the end of a wide hallway, with large windows high on the walls letting old, sallow light fall creakily down onto the piled up rugs and ladders and paints and chairs. A porcelain door, delicately painted, stood before them.

Nakuru stared down at it uneasily. "You expect me to get through _this_?" she asked testily, pointing at the two feet (at best) tall door.

Hope drew a key from its belt, and, gently, slipped the dusty golden thing into the shimmering keyhole of the door. It swung open soundlessly, leaving a gaping dark hole.

A glass table stood near. It hopped towards them, eagerly showing off its contents. A small pillbox with a sign that, in delicate brush strokes that rivaled Eriol's, proclaimed in tiny letters EAT ME. A minuscule glass bottle next to it shouted DRINK ME.

Nakuru shook her head. "Now you're just shoddily ripping off Alice in Wonderland, aren't you? Too much Disney can do that, you know," she added.

Hope opened the box, revealing ten multicolored, pale pastel wafers. She popped one in her mouth, motioning for Nakuru to do the same.

Nakuru carefully bit into it, letting it melt on her tongue like a Communion wafer. She squeezed her eyes tightly, waiting for it - that shock, the feel of bones contracting, and flesh and blood and tendon slipping together...

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes, disappointed. "Well?" she asked.

Silently, Hope made its way to the door. With each step, it fell another inch. Slowly, measure by measure, it was smaller then door. It walked in, leaving Nakuru alone, the flash of its sword the last thing Nakuru could see before the darkness swallowed it.

Suddenly, as if it were a vision (and maybe it was; or maybe just a hallucination), Nakuru could see in her mind's eye what would happen. Destruction, fire, brimstone. The end of the world.

Blindly, transfixed by the violent images, she grabbed at the bottle. She could feel her bones dissolving, transfiguring themselves into inches, centimeters, millimeters...She opened the bottle, and, remembering what happened to poor Alice, she drank a drop, returning to her normal height.

She turned sharply on her heels, elbow banging into the eager little table, breaking it (sorry! she whispered later), and ran, ran, ran down the musty hall.

It twisted and turned, closing in, becoming narrower and dimmer. Candles appeared, and gilt chairs with the stuffing ripped out of their velvet red-as-blood cushions turned up at the end of each hallway, road signs helping her along. The wind choked her hair.

and you can tell from the full-body cast

that you're sorry that you asked

that you did everything you could

(like any decent person would)

but I might be catching so don't touch

you'll start believing that you're immune to gravity

and stuff

don't get me wet because the bandages will all come off

and you can tell

from the smoke at the stake

that the current state is critical

well

it

is

the little things for instance:

in the time to break it

she could make up ten excuses

"please excuse her for the day

it's just the way the medication makes her"

Turning and turning and turning. The acrid smell of burnt rubber (probably from her shoes, she mused, she was running so fast).

The reminders:

TURN LEFT!

[arrow!]

STOP!

[eating animals!]

She felt dizzy.

But, like all fairy tales and all car stories, there was a light at the end of the tunnel, though God was not there_. _However, there was indeed a heavy oak door.

She reached for the brass knob and -

I don't necessarily

believe there is a cure for this

so I might join your century

but only as a doubtful guest:

I was too precarious

removed as a caesarian

behold the world's worst accident:

I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM!

Well. It's summer. Finally. And I feel I should inform you all...this is...the second to last chapter. The next will be the last. And then it'll just be a list of songs used, so I can enlighten you all. THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY.

The song used for this is "Girl Anachronsim" by the Dresden Dolls, my favorite band. They are "carabet punk", and hail from Boston. Its just drums, piano, and vocals. And it rocks. I was going to see them live this summer in Lollapalooza, but of course that had to be canceled...grr.

Thanks so much, everyone!


	14. she's losing it

xiiii. she's losing it

&&&

_Lisa knows a girl who's been abused  
it changed her philosophy in '82  
she's always looking for a fight  
she keeps the neighbors up all night_

The doors burst open, and Nakuru ran outside as fast as she could.

{ run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm }

"Nakuru-san!"

Nakuru turned, hair whipping around her face and getting caught in her mouth. She spat it out delicately, then looked down, her eyes trailing from the pale hand that had stopped her up to the arm it was attatched to, to the shoulder, the neck, the head, the face...

The face. Nakuru knew that face.

It was Sakura!

Nakuru blinked, confused. Last time she had seen her, her innards where being devoured by Nakuru's Id. The Sakura that stood in front of her was cheerful, smiling, and jabbering excitedly, taking Nakuru by the wrist and leading her to a woody clearing.

A crowd of people looked up, and began cheering.

_I go to her when I'm feeling slack  
the girl's using me as a punching bag  
I think that I could help her out  
But the girl's got a lot to be mad about._

Kaho began to clap politely, a smile on her face. On her elbow was Eriol, smiling serenly, head tilted to one side. Then there was Sakura's family (Touya-kun! Nakuru's heart skipped a beat), Yukito (her once-excited heartbeat dropped depressingly), Tomoyo, Tomoyo's family...

On and on.

Tomoyo, in a lacy white Victorian little girl's dress, bounced to Nakuru, and, shouting about "The meal! The food! The sweets! Oh, you'll love it!", led Nakuru to a heavy table cartoonishly carved out of wood, jam-packed with towers of exotic foods and drinks. It made Nakuru's stomach grumble and, with a shock, she realized she hadn't eaten in days.

Nakuru was pushed into a throne-like chair at the head of the table. Dazed, she protested, but the guests shrilly insisted that the "guest of honor" should sit there. Wearily, Nakuru picked up her oversized cloth napkin (tucking it primly into her collar), and began to serve herself.

It was messy, fast, and confusing. Everyone was reaching for food, stuffing it into their faces (like animals, Nakuru thought with silent dread), and talking at breakneck speeds.

_Oh, dear_, Nakuru thought absent-mindedly. _How ever did my fork get into Kinomoto-san's hand?_

She smoothed her ragged skirt down.

A red-haired woman clothed in an immaculate white lab coat, appeared next to Nakuru. She threw her glasses behind Nakuru's shoulder (Suppi-chan poked his eye with the shards until it burst), and began to enthusiastically shake Nakuru's hand, blubbering about how "grateful I am to you, afterall, you're not a bad experiment You destroyed it! You destroyed it! Everyone," she shouted, "she destroyed it!"

The phrase was picked up as a chant, loud voices chiming together: "SHE DESTROYED IT! SHE DESTROYED IT!"

"Destroyed what?" Nakuru asked. Her timid voice was drowned out in the cries of glee.

Kaho leaned forward, a slouched top hat in violent shades of orange and green atop her head. "So," she asked breathlessly, "what happened to the music box?"

"What music box?"

"EVERYONE - SHE DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT THE MUSIC BOX!"

_And in her first moment of waking up  
she knows she's losing it, yeah, she's losing it  
When the first cup of coffee feels like washing up  
She knows she's losing it, yeah, she's losing it  
yeah, she's losing it_

Nakuru slumped in her chair, head in hands. She had a dreadful headache.

Next to her, Yukito fell face first into his giant bowl of lumpy yellowy porridge. She hoped he drowned in it, like the drunks that die in their own vomit.

She shuddered and adjusted her tiara.

"The next dish," the waiter announced, "will be Suppi-chan."

_Lisa met Chelsea at the knocking school  
Chelsea didn't feel like following the rules.  
So they left the place for another school  
Where the boys go with boys and the girls with girls._

"Enough!" Nakuru shouted. "Enough!"

The crowd looked at her.

_"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to!"_

"Aw," Tomoyo whispered, "Isn't she cute."

"It." Sakura corrected her. "It."

&&&

"4,9094, 4,9095, 4,9096, 4,9097, 4,9098, 4,9099, 5,000!"

Nakuru looked up from the path.

"Well, I'm home!"

She hoped everyone was comfortable in their graves.

_Chelsea was the girl who's been abused  
it changed her philosophy in '82  
she says, "Inch for inch, and pound by pound"  
Who needs boys when there's Lisa 'round?"_

Nakuru woke up, crying in her bed.

"Where am I?" she mewled to Kaho.

"We found you by the creek, with a head injury," Kaho replied, not answering Nakuru's question at all.

_And in the first moment of her waking up  
She knows she's losing it, yeah she's losing it  
When the first cup of coffee tastes like washing up  
She knows she's losing it, yeah she's losing it  
She goes to the mirror to put on her stuff  
She knows she's losing it, oh yeah she's losing it  
When she doesn't speak to anyone till four 0' clock  
She knows she's losing it, yeah she's losing it_

"Nakuru," she said sternly to her reflection as she untangled her hair, finding a note written in a crimson ink, "you're losing it."

The doors to a theater in the middle of the woods opened.

Nakuru burned the note, not even reading it.

"Nakuru," she said sternly to her reflection, "Don't think like that. You're losing it."

_Oh, yeah, she's losing it. _

T H E E N D

_It's...over. Wow. This really was a journey for me: a real learning experience._

THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! I appreciate it with all my heart.

The next chapter after this will just be an omake/epilogue thing with Nakuru telling everyone the songs used in this story.

butterflydreaming - Recently, a friend of mine got me into Franz Ferdinand. They're great!  
Infamous Monk - Sequel? grins Perhaps in the future...  
Cygna Hime - Sorry about the formatting. hangs head I couldn't look at it for the longest time because I was on vacation...  
Everyone else...thank you, thank you, thank you!


End file.
